Murder by Association
by Hydromiss
Summary: Draco Malfoy finds a rather curious artifact which sets off a chain of events, unbeknownst to Draco of course. Fortunately, his 8th year of Hogwarts is also Harry Potter's 8th year of Hogwarts and they come together to solve a series of seemingly unconnected murders in the wizarding world. Drarry.
1. Introduction

Introduction

Draco Malfoy sat on the window seat in his room and peered, unseeing, out the window of his latest hideout. He had seen the war tear apart the world he had known and now that it was over, he was running while the rest of the wizarding world was healing. He found it just a tad funny, but he wasn't having a terrible time. It was refreshing sometimes and crazy sometimes, and terrifying sometimes, but it was infinitely better than life during the war. Still, he missed his mother and, if he were honest with himself, he missed Hogwarts, and if he were really truly honest with himself, he missed the idiots that populated Hogwarts. He tried to keep his mind off the past though, and running was a good way to do that. It also kept him alive.

His betrayal of Lord Voldemort in crucial moments during the war and his family's threatened demise lead the members of the Wizengamot to pity him. Informing on most of the Dark Lord's closest followers lead the members of the Wizengamot to rule an acquittal of all charges against him. He was glad he retained his sense of self preservation, if nothing else. While he didn't exactly love the fact that rogue Death Eaters across the Isles were hunting for him, it did give him a smug sense of self satisfaction. For once, he was the one turning the screws and they were the ones reacting. If he could, he would have testified at every single Death Eater trial. The Wizengamot, however, was processing Death Eaters with too much alacrity to require the presence of many witnesses. Thus unwanted and without a shelter or sanction, as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was too busy to assign him any protection, his haven became whatever secret lodgings he could secure. Preferably ones with a window.

Draco would often sit and stare out windows. He rather liked windows. They were good for so many things. For planning his next step, for instance. For getting some much needed sun, for another. For imagining the future and, in his weaker moments, remembering the past. Only rarely was it to really look out the window. Sometimes during these meditations, his face would fall into a frown that seemed to make him look quite the gargoyle. Indeed, if there were any passerby on the lonely street outside the Deshayes Tinctures and Wares shop at 44 Helgamma Road, then that's exactly what they might remark if they should happen to see him through the upstairs window.

Upon becoming aware of his surroundings, Draco sniffed disapprovingly at the muddy lane beneath him and the muddy window panes and the musty smell of the rented chamber. He seemed to disapprove of things by habit but he found that for some reason, people who made money on the side by hiding hunted ex-Death Eaters really didn't keep their hovels in the best condition. The only things he disliked more than hovels was paying for them. He thought vaguely that if he were one for fresh air and exercise, he could have gone on the lam in the country and slept under the stars every night. He then thought vaguely of fleas and ticks and vile things with many legs and suddenly knew he enjoyed hiding in this decrepit hole, paying an exorbitant fee to the shopkeeper to keep his mouth shut.

Standing up from the window seat, Draco's stomach gave him a pang, reminding him that he hadn't eaten that day and it would behoove him to see if he might squeeze the owner for a meal. he peeked under the door to ensure that no one was in the hall before slowly opening it and quietly padding down to the ground floor. The shopkeeper, Mr. Toff, was busy examining something behind the counter and Draco was glad to see that there were no customers at the moment. He'd have been very surprised if this shop attracted more than a handful a week. It was not the kind of shop one considered visiting much if one wanted to appear to stay on the right side of the law. Even so, a place like this was none the less very valuable to many a witch and wizard. This shop would ordinarily be fascinating to Draco, knowing that it was most likely home to some very old, and highly illegal, dark artifacts. However, his stomach did not let him forget why he had descended into the shop.

"Mr. Toff, I wonder if I might have a word." The said Mr. Toff jumped and clutched his chest and Draco was secretly proud of how startled he had made the man.

The shopkeeper was a hunched figure of average height, very lean and bony and just a bit...unsavory. His hair was tied back with a ribbon, probably to give customers a better look at the caved in portion of his left cheek. His cheek bone was missing, probably from a transaction gone wrong, and as a consequence, his left eye hung rather lower on his face. Intimidation was a big factor when you were in his line of work. He regained his composure and turned to look at Draco so that his left side was in good view. "What is it, lad?"

Draco, little daunted by the man's face, said easily "I'm rather hungry, I was hoping you might spare some food for a small meal."

"I don't see why I should do that. I barely make enough to keep my own bones together, let alone a lodger's." The man's lips twitched up into a smirk as he spoke and Draco got the distinct impression that the man made more than enough to keep his bones together, especially since he had the ten galleons that Draco slipped to him earlier that day for the room. However, he was willing to play this game, for the time being at least. He pulled a galleon from his pocket.

"Will this do?"

The shopkeeper's eyes gleamed at the glint of gold and his face split into a twisted smile revealing several missing teeth. "I reckon, sir. What is it you'll be wanting now?

"I fancy some lamb stew with bread and cheese. Something decent to drink as well."

The shopkeeper approached and reached for the gold in Draco's hand, but Draco closed his fist over it. "After...the meal."

The shopkeeper's face turned grim as his eyes went from Draco's hand to his eyes. Draco suppressed a smirk of his own. "Not to worry, old man, I'll watch the shop for you while you're getting it ready."

Mr. Toff looked as if he might wish to give Draco a hex or two, but turned and grumbled as he made his way into the back room. At this, Draco did award himself a smirk and sauntered over to the counter where the shopkeeper had been when Draco entered. Sitting on the stool, he lazily let his eyes wander about the room, taking in the rows of bottled potions and jars of dried lord-knows-whats. All manner and kind of thing were scattered about in a way that seemed completely disorganized. His eyes fell to a shelf built into the back of the counter and saw a rather curious quill lying there. It was beautiful and clean, almost shimmering in the relative darkness. It seemed so out of place in the dingy shop and he reached for it almost as much to save it from the dust as to examine it closer.

It didn't really shimmer when he saw it up close, but he was able to tell that it was a Quote-Rite Quill, a quill used by writers and court reporters because of its exactitude. He had always wanted one for taking notes in class at Hogwarts, but they were banned. He supposed that was because a certain number of students had used the quill as an excuse to nod off during classes instead of pay better attention to the professors. Draco ran a finger along the stiff feathers, surprised at how soft they felt. Indeed, holding it in his hand, it felt like the perfect weight and it sat comfortably in his grip. When he commanded it to write a few words on a scrap of paper, it didn't produce a scratchy or irritating sound, but rather had a smooth almost silent glide.

Draco was brought out of his reverie when Mr. Toff walked into the shop, floating the tray with Draco's meal ahead of him. Seeing Draco, he said "I hope you find this satisfactory, sir. Shall I bring it upstairs for you?" His mouth stretched to expose his teeth in what Draco realized was a startling attempt at ingratiation. The display was nothing short of smarmy, but Draco really would rather be a fugitive _with_ money asking for food than a fugitive _without_ money asking for food.

"Yes, but first, I was wondering whether I might have this quill of yours. I have some letters to write this evening."

The shopkeeper looked sharply at the utensil, recognition gleaming in his eyes. "Oh now, lad, that's gonna cost you. That was brought just today from a very wealthy merchant. Sold it to me for...what was it now? Ten sickles?" He smiled expectantly at Draco.

Draco sighed. "Alright, ten sickles…"

"No, laddy, see, he sold it to me for ten sickles. I have to make a profit, now don't I? I wouldn't let it go for less than 16 sickles. Plus tax makes it 17 sickles."

"What, a galleon for a quill? You must be joking, that's absurd."

"Oh hardly. As you can see, I have many responsibilities and I do eat so little these days. It's not an easy world to make a living in, especially now that the war is over." That smarmy expression was back on Mr. Toff's face.

Draco drew back and put his best blank expression on his face, tossing the quill on the counter. "Well, let's see that dinner, then…"

"Oh alright, alright, twelve sickles…..bleeding me dry" His expression was pained, but he turned and floated the dinner tray up the stairs to place at the foot of Draco's door. Draco, meanwhile, picked up the quill and felt satisfaction bloom in his chest. This, despite the fact that the quill was only worth about five sickles.


	2. Harry, Poor Lad

Harry Potter found his way back to Number 12 Grimmauld Place purely out of luck if he were cogent enough to admit to himself. He had found no need to go directly inside and instead plopped himself down on the curb. The potions the healers at St. Mungo's had given him for the creeping pain in his wand arm made him loose his concentration and frequently left him disoriented. He figured that if it didn't really stop the pain sometimes, it was because the killing curse Voldemort had sent to him in the end really was starting to take hold.

The healers had hashed it over time and again with Harry. Magic could be strange sometimes, could be slow and not altogether obvious. When Harry's hand started to tingle the day after the Battle of Hogwarts, he thought it was nothing. Losing control of his wand hand a week later made him see things differently. After the healers found out what had happened with Harry and Voldemort's wand streams, they started to speak to him in hushed tones and patted his back a lot. He knew what it meant. He knew that the potions they gave him meant time and not a solution. So when he realized that the potions made him feel like none of that had happened, they became his most precious possessions. If he appeared drunk sometimes or stared into nothingness others, he at least was able to be free of himself.

Harry's head and arm began to ache as he sat taking in the night. He pulled a small vial of a powerful sleeping draught from his robes and held it up in front of the moon, spinning it in the moon's glow. He smiled at it's color and took a few drops on his tongue. Replacing it, he took out a flask from his pocket and drank his best guess of a dose of his prescribed pain potion. Within minutes, he wobbled and slumped on the ground, quite unconscious.

~~~Dream

Harry was on his broom, flying above a lake. Mad-Eye Moody flew up alongside him and told Harry to pull over, something about engine trouble. Harry wanted to take the broom to Hogwarts and fix it there, but Mad-Eye insisted that he have the broom. Harry landed by the edge of the Lake and let Mad-Eye walk off with his broom. Harry looked at the lake and saw the engine parts he needed to fix the broom sinking below the surface. He turned around to get Mad-Eye, but he had gone. Fear struck him and he realized he should never have given his precious broom to Mad-Eye. Harry shouted and pleaded but his feet were sinking into the bank of the ever widening lake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~A/N~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry for the super short chapter, I went on vacation this last week and wasn't able to write until I jotted this down on the plane Friday night. Hope the itty dream sequence is properly dreamy :P I'm working on the next proper chapter and will post most likely on Friday or Saturday. Thank you for reading!


	3. The Argument Downstairs

In the waning light of the upstairs lodgings of 44 Helgamma Road, Draco finished his less than satisfying dinner with a grimace and left the dishes on the floor so he might concentrate on more immediate matters. He pulled a length of parchment and a bottle of ink from his travel bag and got the quill at the ready.

"Dear Mother,

I'm well, finding the locals to be tiresome in my new location but not anything I can't handle. Take care of yourself and don't worry about me too much. How are you doing? I know it must be difficult to cope with everything now that Father's gone. Remember though, you're the one who not only saved my life, but Potter's as well. You're strong and I know you can persevere. I'll write again as soon as I have news. By the way, have you any news on that matter from before? I don't catch many newspapers and I daren't ask anybody around here.

Your Son,

Draco"

He pulled the parchment towards him and examined the letter. All satisfactory. He smiled at the thought of his mother getting a letter from him, at the relief and joy that would transform her heretofore grim and worry-lined face. She always smiled when she saw him and this letter would be most welcome to her, he knew. His heart ached suddenly at the thought of her, waiting for word of the remaining death eaters being captured, waiting for word from Draco, waiting and worrying and having to put on that practiced Malfoy front. For a moment, Draco wavered. It would be so simple to go back and visit her, just for a minute, just for a few seconds. Thoughts of leading Death Eaters like Pyrites to her doorstep cooled his intentions considerably, however. He was willing to take plenty of risks himself, but not so with his mother's safety.

He tapped the parchment muttering _Obscuro Atramento_ and the ink disappeared, leaving what appeared to be a blank page. It wasn't the greatest protection in the world, but it was what they had agreed they'd do before they parted. He folded the letter and placed it in his coat pocket. A visit to the nearest owl post office was in line. As he was about to leave on his errand, he felt an unusual emptiness. He was missing something. He stopped in his tracks and turned, his eyes resting on the quill. Well, he figured, he couldn't leave it in the room, it might be stolen. He picked it up, stroked it's gleaming feathers, and placed it gently in the pocket with the letter and made his way to the stairs.

Draco was about to descend said stairs when he heard the muffled sounds coming from the shop below. He paused and listened curiously. It sounded like an argument. Mr. Toff's voice seemed higher pitched than usual, and every once in a while, he seemed to emit a squeak. He couldn't identify the other voice, though it did sound terribly familiar. The familiar voice was cold and demanding, the owner of it seemed to be threatening or questioning Mr. Toff. Draco's mind was racing with possibilities and he knew he had to get a little closer. Casting a _Quietus_ charm on the stairs, he inched his way down til the shop began to come into view. He peeked, very carefully, beyond the wall that covered half the stairwell and he was able to see, only just, but just enough, the scene below. Draco was rooted to the spot. No spell had hit him, no one had seen him, but he was none-the-less struck as if by _Petrificus Totalus_. It was Nott. His friend, Theodore Nott was standing in front of an angry Mr. Toff, and their argument seemed to be escalating.

Mr. Toff, his jaw clenched and teeth bared, said in a hideous voice shaking with anger and, Draco suspected, fear "Nothing, I repeat, _nothing_ comes for free around here, boy."

Nott tilted his head back, and Draco was just able to see that his face was expressionless. "I didn't ask for much, but you had to be greedy. I don't like it when dirty old windbags get in my way."

Nott reached in his robe and Toff, reacting quickly, grabbed his wand from his sleeve and sent a _Stupify_ at Nott before he was able act. Nott's limp form flew backwards and sprawled on the dusty hardwood floor, his wand still clutched in his hand. Draco saw Mr. Toff stuff his own wand back in his sleeve and spit on Nott's leg. Draco had had enough, his heart was pounding and beads of sweat were forming on his brow. He ran back up the stairs, and as quietly and quickly as he could, he stuffed his few possessions into his travel bag, shrunk it, and put it in his pocket. This place was no longer safe and he had to run before Mr. Toff or, God forbid, another Death Eater came looking for him.

There was no time to think, he simply threw up the window sash and dropped out of the open window. He landed with a terrible crunch as his ankle crumpled beneath him and he fell on his side. Searing pain screamed from his leg, but he had no time to react. He dragged himself to the small alley between the shop and the next building on the row, every pebble causing fresh agony to cut through his leg. He was feeling nauseous and lightheaded. The shock was setting in and if he didn't act quickly, he'd pass out. He lifted his wand with a shaky hand and tapped his left shin. " _Ferula_." Bandages wrapped around a splint that appeared on his leg, which Draco was glad to see went passed his ankle. He then lay his head in the mud and propped his other leg up against the wall of the shop. There was nothing more he could do at the moment but stay conscious. He tried to stretch his ears to hear Mr. Toff walking in the upstairs bedroom Draco had been staying in, but the rushing in his ears was far too loud to let him hear anything but his own heartbeat.

It took three agonizing minutes before Draco felt he could sit up without passing out. He didn't know how Mr. Toff hadn't found him already, but he wasn't going to stick around to find out. He thought about the only place he thought which might be safe for a little while. A place only his family had known about. With effort, he stood and tried to calm himself with steadying breaths. He swallowed hard, knowing full well that apparating in his present state could mean splinching. "Destination...determination...deliberation. Alright." He spun and felt the uncomfortable squeeze of the apparation press all about him. He arrived with a small pop in the middle of Grimmauld Place and immediately fell down, muffling a scream. His leg now felt like a troll was stomping on it and he could feel the blood pulse painfully against the splint. He cursed himself for jumping out a bloody window like an idiot, cursed the ground (it was stupid), and cursed the whole town of Fetter's Borough while he was at it. When he had run the gamut of foul utterances and the pain was starting to lessen, he at last opened his eyes and stared at the entrance to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. There was a person lying in the ground in front of it. Draco went still, hardly breathing, but his every sense was alive and searching the environment. He pulled out his wand and cast _Homenum Revelio_ , but it appeared that the prostrate figure in front of the house was the only person present. It was odd though, since that house was supposed to be unplottable. It couldn't be a muggle, and that couldn't be good news.

He dragged himself over to the figure and halted when he recognized the owner's face. Harry bloody Potter.


	4. One Last Good Deed

Harry Potter was still and his breathing was slow and steady. Draco's shock of finding his old rival outside his great aunt's old house was not to be afforded any time. He lightly slapped Harry's cheek and opened an eyelid. Harry wasn't waking up, much to Draco's dismay. He briefly considered leaving him there overnight, but remembered that he himself could use assistance to get in the house. Looking about to ensure they were still alone in the neighborhood, Draco pulled his wand out again and pointed it at Harry, saying " _Rennervate_."

Harry sucked in air and blinked drowsily for a moment before sitting bolt upright.

"Malfoy! What?" Harry tried to stand but was still a little woozy and ended up stumbling a little bit. He pressed his palm against his temple and scrunched his eyes.

"Geez, that hurts. What's going on here, Malfoy, what are you doing at my house?"

It was Draco's turn to be flabbergasted. "Your house?" He turned bulging eyes to the aged townhouse. "I'll have you know that this heap of stone has been in my family for generations, Potter."

"My head is killing me, keep your voice down will you?" Harry still had his eyes screwed shut and Draco wondered whether he had sustained a blow to the head. His fears regarding the presence of Death Eaters clutched again at Draco's heart and he cast a nervous glance down the street. It was dark now, it would be easy to hide in the shadows of an old, ill lit stretch of road such as this.

"Help me up, Potter, we can talk inside."

"Can't you get up yourself?" He opened his eyes after he said this and finally took in Draco's appearance. Mud and sweat soaked his hair, his suit, which Harry knew would have ordinarily been pristine, was wrinkled and covered in mud, and his left leg was wrapped in a splint. Harry gawked and Draco felt his face grow hot under Harry's gaze. He realized what a sight he must have made so he said quickly, "Just help me up, will you? And mind the leg, Potter, it's rather tender."

"Well, I guess it's alright. Just be quiet when we get inside, will you? There's a portrait in the hall by the entrance and she makes an unholy ruckus if you wake her."

Harry helped Draco into the house, holding his waist while Draco's arm was slung over Harry's shoulder. It took a full two minutes to get Draco in the house and another ten up the flight of stairs to the first floor. Harry brought Draco to one of the beds and eased him down, getting his bad leg up on the bed as well.

"Well, I'm sorry you had to go up all those stairs, there's nothing but a table and some chairs downstairs. Um, so...the leg, what happened? Is it broken?" Harry looked from Draco's leg to his face. Draco was looking pale and strained.

"I think so, all I know is that it feels like it's about to fall off. Do you think you might get a healer here for me?"

"Oh, yeah, I'll floo over to St. Mungo's. They must have somebody who can make a house call in the evenings. What do you want me to tell them happened to you?" Harry hesitated in asking Draco that, knowing that Draco would probably not want to confide much in Harry.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter, tell them anything, I don't care. Just hurry, please." The pain was getting to Draco now that the adrenaline was fading from his system. Harry nodded and left the room without another word. The fireplace was in just the other room and he ran to it and flooed to the hospital. While he was gone, Draco fingered the wrappings around his leg with a frown. No way Potter would desert him here with a broken leg. If there was one person on Earth who wouldn't turn down someone in need, it was Potter...right?

A knock sounded on the open door and Draco looked up to see Harry and a strange, rather short witch in a white coat standing next to him. Draco sat up, with some difficulty and opened his mouth to greet her, but she cut him off.

"I'm Healer Winslow, a mediwitch with St. Mungo's. You're the patient, I presume?" She strode forward, opening her medical bag as she walked. Again, Draco opened his mouth to reply, but she continued, "I'll give you a quick diagnostic. Best not to talk while I'm working." He shot wide eyes at Harry, who shrugged and quirked the corner of his mouth up into a wry smile. Draco squinted at Harry. She was quick with the diagnostic, though.

"Your blood pressure is quite low, your tibia is shattered, your fibula is fractured, and your ankle is also fractured in two places. This is very bad, very bad indeed. I'm afraid we'll have to replace that leg."

Draco's eyes practically bugged out of his head. "What do you mean, replace it?"

"Don't fret too much. It'll be painful, but it should regrow nicely. When a bone shatters like that, it's terribly dangerous. Splinters could cause internal bleeding and make a mess of things. Best for us to just replace it."

Draco looked at Harry with pleading eyes, but saw Harry tight-lipped. Harry felt he knew what was coming next and, Draco Malfoy or not, he felt a twinge of pity for the poor sap. Harry moved towards the bed and helped Healer Winslow remove Draco's shoe and the wrappings around his leg. Draco emitted a few low hisses and glared at Harry, but didn't say a word. The healer was then poring through her medical bag, digging out a potion every moment or two. When she had gathered everything, she handed Draco a small vial.

"This is for your blood pressure." Draco downed it in one gulp and handed her back the vial, looking expectantly at her. She simply said "Don't panic…" and pointed her wand at Draco's leg. " _Ossio Dispersimus_." Draco shrieked as his leg suddenly flattened and his foot folded on top of his pant leg. "Not to worry, dear, they'll be back. It'll take a day or two, but they'll be back." She smiled proudly at the bottle of Skele-gro she had pulled out of her bag earlier. "Not to worry. It'll heal your ankle nicely as well, you'll be happy to hear."

Draco gawked at her. The shock of practically having lost his leg had struck him dumb. She poured a small cup-full of the Skele-gro for Draco and urged him to drink it. Ignoring the groans Draco was emitting at the foul taste of the potion, she turned to Harry and handed him the bottle.

"He ought to take another dose in the morning when he wakes. These leg bones are pesky things, they take a lot out of you to grow back. It will take a day and a half to two days for them to come all the way back. In the meantime, he's to have plenty of rest and have healthy meals. You'll let me know if anything goes wrong, I'm sure." She smiled up at Harry and he gave her a small smile in return, before mentally groaning. How did he get embroiled in this anyhow? How was that git's leg any of his concern? He sighed and escorted her back to the fireplace, thanking her for her help. When she had gone, he leaned his back against the wall next to the fireplace and closed his eyes. His headache wasn't getting any better and he still had no idea what was really going on with Draco. He just wanted to sleep. From the other room, he could hear Draco calling him. He let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Potter! Potter, where in blazes are you? You haven't left me here by myself have you? I swear to Merlin, if you've left me Potter, I'll…"

Just then, Harry walked into the room, glowering. "What? What is it? Can I not be out of the room for two seconds without you peeling the wallpaper?"

Draco was clearly unapologetic. "Oh I'm sorry I disturbed our Great Savior. I would bow and scrape BUT I'M LEGLESS if you haven't noticed! Look, I'm covered in filth, I smell like a sewer, and frankly, we need to talk about security."

"Shut up. Just, be quiet for a minute, will you?"

Draco looked as if he had been slapped. "Oh, fine, no problem, whatever the Holy One here requests."

"I haven't the patience for dealing with your sodding whining. Just...look, I'll get you some clean pajamas and a _Scourgify_ should do to clean you up til you can take a proper bath. As for security, what are you thinking of, exactly? What do you expect to happen? What _did_ happen to you? You look like a right bag of..."

"Enough, I know what I must look like, thank you. I'm worried about intruders, can anyone get inside? This house has all sorts of defenses, doesn't it?"

"Defenses...there's a couple, it's under the _Fidelius_ charm and no one can apparate in here. There are some weird defenses that Mad-Eye Moody set up downstairs which I have no clue the extent of. Just tell me what's going on, who would be coming in here? The war's over, everything's over now."

Draco sobered. "Do you really think that? Merlin, Potter, where have you been? People can tell the ministry all the names they want, but they don't have a legion of wizards to track everybody down! The ministry itself was full of the Dark Lord's followers until recently. It's still mayhem out there. People are still dying, Potter, only it's making less noise than it did before." Draco sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "It's an ugly kind of quiet. I guess people saw so much killing during the war that if a few folks get picked off here and there, they're too tired to care anymore. If my father gets murdered, it doesn't warrant a second thought. He's just a name on a list."

Draco hadn't meant to say that much. Potter always seemed to do this to him. He always stirred Draco up. His leg was hurting so much now and he was so cold.

Harry had been looking at Draco's eyes, but he found it hard to hold his gaze and instead looked at his feet. He felt that Draco was talking about him and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of a lecture from Draco sodding Malfoy of all people. Still, he couldn't say Draco wasn't right. He hadn't known Lucius had died and now that he did, it really was just another name now. Thinking about it left a bitter taste in his mouth, so he changed the subject. "So what happened to you?"

"I fell out a window. I've been lying low since my trial and someone caught up with me at the place I was staying. An ex-Death Eater. I thought this place was deserted since my relative died so I apparated here." Draco looked decidedly uncomfortable now. Harry thought he looked a little paler than usual too, but it was hard to say with a Malfoy. They were all so bloodless to begin with. Draco began to sway a bit and Harry rushed over to steady him.

"Alright, Malfoy, just lie down." Harry ensured Draco's head didn't knock into any walls and fixed the pillow under his head. He wasn't quite sure what to do then; he'd never really taken care of anyone by himself. He supposed he ought to take Draco's other shoe off. Yes, start with the shoe. Then what? Well, at least he could cast a _Scourgify_ and take care of that grime. Then...Draco was still looking poorly. He went downstairs and rummaged around until he found a nice large bowl and filled it with hot water. He grabbed a small towel and brought them upstairs and set about applying the hot towel to Draco's forehead. He supposed he could loosen Draco's tie and open his collar. He then supposed he could grab a blanket for him, it was only decent, after all. When Harry had refreshed the towel on Draco's forehead a couple times, he saw the color creeping back into Draco's face. He grabbed the desk chair and sat on it, looking at him carefully in the quiet of the finally peaceful house. He pushed aside the pale blonde hair that was clinging to Draco's forehead and noted that it was as soft as he had always imagined it to be. He took in the sharp contours of Draco's handsome face, the dark circles around his eyes. To meet him again like this when they were, who knows, not enemies...it was weird. His last good deed would be on Draco's behalf. He supposed it was somewhat poetic. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more. Now that Harry was thinking about it, it was rather sad. A couple of kids, destinies chosen for them before they could even walk. Destiny wasn't really fair at all. By all rights, Harry should have been able to move on after the war and be with the people he loved and had a normal life. Draco...Draco should have too. He found Draco's hand and gave it a quick squeeze, then found the familiar flask in his pocket and took perhaps more than he should. The world could be too real sometimes. This helped. Whenever he remembered things, this helped. It was hard to shut out the image of Draco knowing that his father's death hadn't mattered to anyone else, though. For some reason, the potion wasn't helping now. The tears welled up in his eyes and ran down familiar paths on his face. Maybe another dose would help.

* * *

A/N: I went back and edited this chapter pretty heavily over a couple days so there's bound to be some mood variations that I didn't pick up on. Please leave me a review and let me know what you think of the characterizations, it would be highly appreciated :D It's hard to get them not to fight (or snog). I did my best to not have Harry basically glom onto sleeping Draco there, believe me. He was really fighting to have a lot more contact, I had to slap his hand and scold him a couple times. Next chapter is in the works :) By the way, "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more" is by Shakespeare, not me. The day I can write like him, will be in the rear-view mirror :P Once more unto the review box, dear friends, once more ;)


End file.
